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Chapter Twelve

An afternoon wandering the gaming floor at Caesar’s Palace told Caleb that his wins at the Desert Paradise poker tournament hadn’t been a fluke.

Sure, he lost here and there, but his wins more than made up for that.

Not huge wins — he wasn’t about to start attracting any real attention to himself, so manipulating the cards to pull in another quarter-mil or so definitely wasn’t in the plan — and yet he thought he was staying sharp enough.

Still, even though he was able to walk out of there with a fresh five grand in his pocket, he knew he had been just a wee bit distracted.

And that, he thought, was all Delia’s fault.

Okay, maybe that was pushing things a little.

All the same, he hated the idea of her going out with that Aaron Sanchez guy.

Even if he hadn’t been able to pull up any incriminating evidence about the man, Caleb still knew deep down there was something very wrong about him, and that he was obviously working with the equally dodgy Paul Reeves despite the lack of any real evidence to prove such a connection.

Caleb drove home in his new Mercedes, which had continued to work flawlessly.

Either the demons hadn’t been able to determine what his new wheels looked like — or where he was living now — or they were holding back and plotting some new mischief that they planned to unleash at the worst possible time.

Considering his previous dealings with them, he thought both scenarios were equally likely.

Once he was inside, he found himself wishing he knew where Delia was meeting Aaron for drinks. Someplace very public and very crowded, he assumed, since Caleb knew she was smart enough to set up a first date in a venue where she’d be surrounded by people.

Unfortunately, there were hundreds of bars and restaurants in Las Vegas which fit that particular description.

Maybe he should hire a private detective of his own. Not Prudence, of course, but Caleb knew there were probably plenty of P.I.s operating in the area who’d be more than happy to take his money and dig up all sorts of dirt on Aaron Sanchez and Paul Reeves.

And probably Ty Carter as well, although Caleb had a feeling he might be a bit harder to investigate. Also, even if the guy seemed not quite right to him, he didn’t give off the overwhelming sense of malevolence that inevitably surrounded a demon.

Unless he was hiding it. Any demon operating in this town would probably know Caleb was here, and therefore would do its best to mask the sulfurous stink that usually emanated from one of their kind.

Well, even if he didn’t end up hiring a private investigator, it might not be a bad idea to collect the names of some likely prospects.

Half an hour later, he had a list of ten people who sounded as if they’d be able to do the job he would hire them to do. He’d run across Prudence Nelson’s name multiple times, but obviously, she couldn’t make the final list, not if he wanted to keep all this hidden from Delia.

By that point, the hour was well past six, a time when he’d usually start thinking about whether he wanted to go out and pick something up for dinner, or whether it would be better to just stay home and have DoorDash bring his food over.

He’d done that multiple times in the past, so he knew it would be safe enough.

But for whatever reason, he couldn’t get his brain to settle down long enough to focus on what he wanted to eat. No, he kept thinking about Delia’s meeting with Aaron, and how things would go. What if they really hit it off? What if they actually started dating?

She’s a big girl, he told himself. She can handle this. And you’re not her boyfriend. You don’t have a say in what she does with her personal life.

No, he definitely didn’t. But he was her friend, and obviously, he didn’t want her to be in any kind of danger.

If there was any danger at all, except maybe the normal first date kind of either being bored to death or realizing she had absolutely no chemistry with the man.

Still….

Frowning, he went back into his office and studied the list of private detectives he’d compiled. When he picked up the phone, however, he stood there for a long moment with it waiting in his hand before he carefully put it back down again.

He didn’t know what was going to happen between Delia and Aaron Sanchez. The only thing he did know was that if he started investigating her maybe-boyfriend without telling her what he was up to, then he’d be in a world of hurt once she found out.

No matter how hinky he was feeling right then, he wasn’t about to betray her trust like that.

Even though it was a Sunday and nowhere near a holiday — Easter was almost a month off — spring break crowds still packed the bar at the Hard Rock casino.

Delia hadn’t thought about that, mostly because she tried to avoid the touristy places and it had been years since she’d had to worry about spring break, but she supposed the crowds had their use.

It would be pretty hard to get up to any real mischief when surrounded by this many people.

Aaron had gotten there before her and had even managed to snag a high-top table not too far away from the bar. He must have been watching to see her enter, because as soon as she had paused at the entrance to scan the crowd, he’d lifted a hand to wave her over.

“What kind of voodoo did you have to perform to get a table like this?” she asked as she sat down, and he grinned.

“No chicken sacrifices necessary. Someone was leaving just as I came in, and I was able to get one of the busboys to clean it off for me.”

She thought sacrificing chickens was more of a Santería kind of thing, but she decided to let it go. “That’s some good luck.”

Despite how busy the bar was, one of the waiters must have noticed the way they’d snagged the table and were now waiting for drinks, so he came over to take their order.

Since this wasn’t really about having dinner — Delia guessed they might decide to share an appetizer later on, but that would be it — she decided to skip the wine and have a margarita. Aaron ordered a Kiltlifter pale ale, and once that was handled, he said, “I have some good news.”

“Oh?”

“One of my clients thinks the Pinon Drive house would be a great fit, so I’m showing it to her and her husband tomorrow afternoon. It doesn’t have any offers on it yet, does it?”

Unfortunately, no. But Delia summoned a smile and said, “Not yet. I know Marcy Talbott showed it yesterday afternoon, but I haven’t heard anything from her. It’s likely her clients are taking the weekend to mull it over. Until I have an offer on the table, though, it’s open season.”

Aaron nodded. “Good to know. I saw you’re having an open house on Wednesday, too?”

“I am,” she said, then paused, since the waiter had returned with their drinks.

Once he’d set them on the table, though — and once they’d put in a quickie order for some nachos — she added, “I thought it couldn’t hurt to have a weekday open house late in the afternoon to catch those people whose schedules won’t allow them to attend one on the weekend. ”

Of course, the real reason she’d scheduled the open house for Wednesday and not the following Saturday was that she’d be at the poker tournament, cheering Caleb on.

However, even though Aaron knew she’d been there in that capacity yesterday, she didn’t see the need to point out that she planned to attend all three days this coming week.

They certainly weren’t well-acquainted enough to entitle him to know everything she planned to do and everywhere she intended to go.

Besides, plenty of agents had open houses during the week to accommodate people’s often crazy work schedules.

In a town like Las Vegas, where many businesses were open 24/7…

or at least seven days a week…there were plenty of residents who didn’t work anything close to a standard Monday-through-Friday and nine-to-five schedule.

“Good idea,” he said. “Although I assume you’ll cancel it if you get an offer before then.”

“Maybe not,” she replied at once. “It never hurts to have some contingencies, right?”

Another smile, one that was warm enough, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Was he hoping his client would love the house so much that she would make an offer that very same day?

Well, Delia couldn’t blame him for that, not when it was the sort of outcome everyone involved in those sorts of transactions hoped for.

“Let’s drink to contingencies,” he said, and lifted his pint glass.

The customary clink, and then they both drank.

It was a good margarita, not watered down the way so many of the bars here in town tended to do.

By this point, she was used to it, and had the “good” bars on a mental list she updated as necessary, but even so, part of the reason why she drank wine so often when she went out was that then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a wimpy cocktail.

Not much chance of that here, it seemed, so she was glad she’d already mentally resolved to have no more than two drinks tonight.

True, it would be easy enough to take a cab or an Uber home if she thought she’d overindulged, but still, it just felt better to keep her wits about her when she was out with someone she barely knew.

“So…what made you go into real estate?” she asked, figuring that was a logical enough question for a first date.

The information Pru had provided had already told Delia about where Aaron was from and where he’d gone to school, but obviously, those bare bones of facts hadn’t revealed anything about why he’d made the switch from managing restaurants to selling houses.

He smiled, one finger playing with the condensation on the outside of his tall glass.

“A couple of different things. I was a restaurant manager for a while — I got my degree in business with a focus on the hospitality industry — but it was kind of grueling, and I knew I wanted to try something else.”